


Power and Dust

by sensualtypes



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Degradation, Dominance, F/F, Orgasm Denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 00:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10059677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sensualtypes/pseuds/sensualtypes





	

Sander hated the Sierra Madre and its inhabitants more than the profligates of the Mojave itself. 

But it was not about the poisonous air that settled everywhere or the people of the past that drifted the streets like lost puppies. No, it was about a woman; a sharp, hard woman who lived through more than Sander could ever imagine. A woman with scars lining every crevice of her ivory skin, scars born from unspeakable acts that Sander will never learn of. The woman bearing the red bull found ways of learning other secrets though. Secrets of the skin, secrets of lust and sex. 

Christine smelt the Cloud before the commandant even entered the room. Red dust coated the woman's boots and duster coat. 

"Pleased you could finally join me, commander." 

Sander's silhouette outlined the door for a moment before closing the door, the Cloud still drifting like electricity in the air. "Come here please, Courier." 

She did as asked after shedding her duster and began to unlace her boots when Christine stopped her with a grunt. "Not now," was the simple explanation. 

Christine waited patiently for the courier to make her way to her. When she stood in front of her, Christine's hard eyes only glanced down for a second but the courier knew what was asked of her. Dropping to her knees, she placed her gnarled, battle-worn hands on the matted burgundy carpet, a furnish once meant for the country's aristocracy, now covered in a millennia's worth of grime and musk. Sander leaned forward on her haunches to hold her face inches from Christine's leather-laced boots. Sander awaited the woman's command. 

"How is governing the Mojave?" Christine knew of the courier's deceptive plans to rule the desert with an iron fist hidden behind the ruse of Caesar. She knew all about Sander's lies spun to seduce Caesar and take advantage of his illness to rule secretively through his eyes. Everything the man did was in favor of the courier herself. She was perhaps the only person alive who knew any remote knowledge of this. Clearly, Sander trusted her to a great extent. 

"Stressful. Explaining why I am here," Remarked the woman from below. Christine hummed. "And Veronica?" Sander's blue eyes flicked upward, reading her. "Good, sends her regards, amongst other feelings." Christine's hand slid over the woman's short cropped hair. "Good to hear." The Mojave's dictator shivered in anticipation. "Are you ready?" Sander inhaled. 

"Yes ma'am." 

Christine gripped what she could of the courier's hair and pulled her down to her feet. "Then lick, my courier."  
Sander followed her command, reveling in the praise from above. After a mere moment, Christine grew restless and uttered a command to stop. Sander obeyed. 

"Come to me, my courier, I want to feel you." 

Sander rose to her knees and gave herself to be held in the woman's soft hands. Christine cradled her face. "Do you think you deserve me, my courier?" Sander did not hesitate. "No, ma'am." 

The courier, the hidden face of the Mojave, the woman who hunted down her enemies and murdered them no matter the consequence, succumbed so easily to the woman of Steel. It was not about hate, or love for that matter. It was power, something that was so abundant in the Mojave that she was shocked to see it dissipate in the Sierra Madre. Here, no one cared for the meat of the bone, or the victory of a battle, only themselves. Christine bore remnants of the Brotherhood, all power and commands. Sander ached to have someone outmatch her, when no one in the Mojave could. She saw potential in Christine and so she sought after it. Christine was more than willing to give. 

"Good girl. Now I want you to have a seat, but bring the chair just within arm's reach of me." 

Sander obeyed, hoisting the chair up and planting it in front of Christine. "Now, have a seat." 

Sander sat rigidly, awaiting the next instruction. "What do you want most from me, courier?" Sander hesitated. Was this rhetorical? Christine began to look impatient so she uttered the first thing that she thought of, "Your gaze." A ghost of a smile lit up Christine's face. Sander already had begun to stare at the woman's erect nipples through her tank top. The courier swallowed as she watched Christine shed her garments, slowly, tortuously. "Is this what you wanted, commander?" This was new. Sander felt anxious but paid more attention to the curls of fire pulling in her abdomen. "Yes ma'am." 

Christine had begun to touch herself. Ravenously. She already entered herself with three fingers and Sander felt herself become extraordinarily aroused. Her thighs pressed together, uncomfortably tightening against her pulsing erection. Christine's gaze ran across her body, taking in her reaction. For an added show, she let her head fall back and moaned the courier's name. To this, the Legion's commander audibly groaned aloud. "Are you ready to fuck, courier?" Sander bit her lip. Of course she was ready, but this seemed too simple for the woman of many pasts. It was a trick. 

"Only by your say so, ma'am." 

Christine's already present grin grew. "Good, my courier, you listen with your mind and not your groin for once." 

This made Sander stir. She knew Christine was only doing this to agitate her but she didn't care; no one spoke to the Butcher of the Mojave like that. 

Sander stayed put, boiling silently. Christine crawled on her knees towards her, rose just inches from the other woman's face. Sander could smell the agave on her breathe. "You want to ride me like you do that bull of Caesar." This was not an observation, but a statement. "Do you think I would allow a Legion dog to do so much as look in my direction?" 

Sander grit her teeth. "No." 

In all the haze of anger, Sander forgot the biggest unspoken rule between the two. A hard, stinging slap came across her face. "Correct yourself, legionary." 

Sander's hot face was turned downward, but only for a moment. She didn't think it possible, but her crotch burned worse than her cheek. "No, ma'am." 

"Good soldier. Come here and fuck, Bull." 

Sander unconsciously rose to her feet and planted the scarred woman down on the smoke-smelling afghan. Christine looked up at her with eyes that seemed to glow. With no patience whatsoever, the courier latched onto the women's neck, bathing her tongue over her collarbone, biting with tobacco-stained teeth at the base. Christine writhed and moaned, pawing at the woman's hair. Sander's erection throbbed uncomfortably through her fatigues. She had set up a good rhythm of grinding on Christine's leg while nipping at her now exposed breasts. "Why don't you put yourself to good use." Christine absentmindedly remarked. Hastily, both women pulled Sander's fatigues down past her ass, no patience to pull them off. Her cock bounced lightly and its pre-cum glistened off the faint lantern's light. Christine's eyes lit up with a newfound hunger. Clearly she wanted this as much as Sander, but kept her façade of control. 

She placed her hands on the courier's thighs to steady her as she moved up from around Christine's hips. She held the base and instinctively wrapped her mouth around Sander. Almost falling forward, the woman of the Bull groaned through her teeth. It felt so good to relieve at least some of the pressure. Christine's tongue worked its unique techniques around the head and shaft. Sander knew better than to touch her without permission, but her shaky hands had nowhere to go. Without thinking, she held the woman of Steel's head softly, feeling the faint tracings of stubble growing from her buzz cut. Her nails raked as gentle as she could manage and elicited soft groans from her. There was no protest. 

Meanwhile, Christine's other hand had begun to pump the courier's shaft relentlessly, making Sander buck her hips into her mouth. Ever so often, she would push forward too much and cause Christine to gag softly, inducing more saliva than anticipated. When Sander began to breathe hard through her nose, Christine absconded with a faint pop. Sander blew out her breath harshly. "Not yet, my courier." Sander nodded and adjusted herself. Christine had gestured for her to move and she obeyed. Now, she sat on her knees, waiting. Christine leaned forward on her haunches and whispered into her ear. "Do you want to feel my cunt, courier? Feel my warmth?" Sander almost whimpered. "Yes ma'am." Christine settled on the woman's lap and took her cock in her hands, aiming it for her lips. Sander held her breath. Felt the wet heat and then gradually, sheathed her cock inside Christine. Both women exhaled sharply. Sander saw stars when the vertigo came with Christine finally fucking her. She jutted her hips upward, testing the waters; resulting in Christine gasping, holding Sander's shoulders tight. 

Christine regained her balance, pushing down as far as her body would let her. "Are you ready, Sander?" She closed her eyes and nodded, cock pulsing low. Christine began to bounce slowly, her lower ass slapping Sander's thighs. Sander almost screamed at the contact. She braced her arm on the bed and the other around Christine and began to pump precisely. Christine hummed and gasped and moaned all in the span of these events. Christine had lost the reigns. Loosened her iron grip. For how long, Sander did not know, so she would make the best of it. Leaning slightly forward, she thrust her cock into the former Brotherhood scribe. Her eyebrows began to furrow, a sheet of sweat beading her back. She observed the woman now below her. 

Her now faint scars twisted and mapped out her entire scalp, although there was hair was growing, the scars did not dissipate. Her eyebrows were growing too, and Sander could see traces of grime and Red Cloud that could never seem to wash off. Christine's eyes were closed, so she did not see the flash of Sander's wistful gaze upon her. She did, however, see Sander's mouth hang open in a frozen face of concentration and exertion, felt the courier's cock twitch. "Don't, Sander." 

The woman grunted and slowed, breathing hard and meeting Christine's eyes. She tried, and failed, to breathe shallow. Christine could see the desperation in her eyes. "I want to taste you."  
Christine gestured for Sander to rotate her body so she faced Christine's lower body. "And I want to take you in my mouth." Sander shuddered. Christine swore she heard the stoic courier whisper 'please.' Christine guided the courier's cock to her lips while she felt hot breath spill over her labia. She breathed steadily and raised her head to take in Sander's girth. A high moan was heard from below. Sander's hips bucked primally. Christine placed a hand on her to slow her. She closed her eyes and felt a wet tongue lap along her slit. It felt good to finally be spread open by the courier. It felt equally good to feel the over eager soldier glide her throbbing cock in and out of Christine's mouth. She reached her opposite hand up to stroke her base and balls. This caused the woman's steady rhythm to stutter and her mouth left Christine for a spilt moment to groan aloud. 

"Christine, I can't-" 

"You can and you will, Sander. I'm right here." 

The courier whined and continued her task. Christine could feel her cock pulse rhythmically.  
She felt fingers enter her, and she hissed under her breath. "Faster, Sander." She demanded, her vision began to dance as she felt the liquid waves of fire wash over her lower body, saw Sander's cock thrust into her hands and mouth, tasted the Mojave's dust and the courier's sweat. Christine held her head back and let euphoria take control of her body. "Christine, I-I can't..." She pumped her cock faster, harder. "It's okay, Sander." The woman above her gasped and let out a long groan, hips stuttering for the final time. Christine let her mouth fall open and tasted her come, never stopping her rhythm. 

"Ma'am, Christine, oh god I-" Sander bared her teeth, crying out for the woman of Steel, her normally adept fingers stopping and starting up again, pulling Christine to climax along with her. Christine moaned through the come filling her mouth, savoring the weight of the woman's body and the force exerted from every thrust. 

Moments later, both women collapsed, breathing low. Christine watched Sander light a cigarette, and pulled two Nuka-Colas from the shelf of the kitchenette. "Thank you, Christine." The scarred woman laughed, arm resting behind her head, bare chest rising and falling from the chuckles. "I know how stressful the Mojave can be, courier."  
Sander twisted the cap from both bottles and passed one to Christine. They both took hefty swigs and the courier laughed her husky, smoker's laugh when Christine burped unabashedly. 

Finishing off her cigarette, Sander began to lace her boots. "My work never rests, I'm afraid."  
Christine shrugged, sipping from the neck of the bottle. She slipped her duster on and peeked from the apartment's open door, "I'll be sure to pass a hello to Veronica." 

The door closed and Christine was left alone, sweat drying and Nuka getting flat. She wondered how long it would be before the courier would return.


End file.
